I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial 911. As I talk to the dispatcher, Mikayla tries to get Nana inside, but she won’t budge. Nana’s face is sheet white.

Cade clings to Nana’s hand, telling her, “We’re all right….”

With blaring sirens and flashing lights, a squad car pulls into the inn’s parking lot.

Tears crystallize on Cade’s lashes. Mikayla shivers and huddles in her coat.

My neighbor Shawn and another officer stride over. The swastika and “Death to Jews” looms above us. Shawn’s eyes flicker to the vandalism, and then he says, “This is Officer Tisdale. We’ve been patrolling the area as promised and pulled in here not more than forty minutes ago.” He slips a hand into his coat and removes a small notebook from his breast pocket. “Why don’t we go inside and we can get your statements,” he says.

Cade opens the apartment door and holds on to Nana, leading her inside. She says, “I need to lie down.” She slips her arm out of Cade’s, shuffles to her room as Cade stares helplessly after her.

“Who did this to us?” Mikayla asks, once we’re sitting around the kitchen table. “Who could do something so hateful?”

“We’ll do our best to find out. Do you have surveillance cameras?”

Cade shakes his head. “No.”

“We never thought we would need them,” Mikayla adds, looking shattered. “This is a good community.” The words hang in the air, hollow.

Cade updates them on the additional articles and the letter to the editor by Reg Ashford.

Shawn frowns. “This isn’t the only incident that’s occurred within the last twenty-four hours. The Lake Towns Journal reporter’s car had swastikas keyed into the paint and—”

“Bethany Beshett?” I ask.

Shawn nods. “And headstones were toppled and smashed in a Jewish cemetery forty-five minutes from here.”

“Because we spoke out against the assignment?” Cade asks.

“Because people hate,” Shawn says.

Officer Tisdale asks us to email a list of every student who taunted us, threatened us, called us names. I ask, “What about teachers?”

“Everyone,” Shawn responds. “We’ll check around the premises, canvas the area, and speak to some of the other business owners nearby.”

“Are we safe?” Mikayla asks in a whisper. She reaches for Cade’s hand.

“If it will make you feel better, we can make arrangements to have someone keep an eye on the inn 24/7.”

Nana shuffles into the kitchen. “We’ll never be safe,” she says. Then she turns to Mikayla. “Where are your manners? These officers need some coffee and cookies.”